I still remember sitting in that sterile office, the scent of antiseptic hanging in the air as I faced one of the most difficult decisions of my life. The psychiatrist's words echoed in my mind as I weighed treatment against simply walking away unchanged. It was during this period of reflection that I discovered Jili Park, a place that would become my sanctuary and ultimately influence my choice to embrace healing. Little did I know that this urban oasis would teach me more about self-care than any clinical setting ever could.
The first time I visited Jili Park, I nearly missed it entirely. Tucked away between bustling city streets, this 47-acre green space doesn't shout for attention like other tourist attractions. That's precisely what makes it special - it's Manila's best-kept secret, waiting for those willing to look beyond the obvious. I entered through the unassuming eastern gate off Aurora Boulevard, and within moments, the city's chaos melted away. The transition felt metaphorical for my own journey - sometimes the most profound changes begin with the simplest choices to step through unfamiliar doors.
What struck me immediately were the towering narra trees, some standing over 80 feet tall, their canopies creating natural cathedral-like spaces. I learned later that these giants have witnessed nearly two centuries of Manila's history. Walking along the winding paths, I discovered hidden benches perfect for quiet contemplation, exactly what I needed during those difficult decision-making days. The park's layout encourages exploration, with unexpected clearings revealing themselves when you least expect them. I developed a ritual of visiting every Tuesday and Thursday morning, when the light filters through the leaves in the most magical way and the crowds haven't yet arrived.
The wildlife here surprised me most. Beyond the common maya birds, I spotted at least 17 different bird species during my visits, including the stunning Philippine pygmy woodpecker. There's a particular family of monitor lizards that sun themselves near the central pond around 10 AM daily - they've become somewhat of a personal fascination. The park maintenance team told me they've documented over 42 butterfly species in the gardens, though I've only managed to identify about two dozen myself. These small discoveries became markers in my healing process, each new species noted representing another step forward in my own transformation.
Practical tips I wish I'd known earlier: come before 8 AM to experience the park at its most serene, and don't skip the northwestern section where the heritage fountain stands. The water there comes from an natural spring that's been flowing since 1932. Bring your own water bottle though - while there are vendors, their prices are about 35% higher than shops just outside the park gates. Wear comfortable walking shoes because the best spots require some exploration. The paved paths cover about 3 miles total, but the real treasures lie just off the main routes.
During my third visit, I stumbled upon what regulars call "the meditation corner" - a secluded spot behind the orchid garden where the city sounds completely disappear. It was here that I finally made peace with my decision to pursue treatment. Sitting on that weathered stone bench, watching dragonflies dance above the lotus pond, I realized that sometimes the most significant journeys begin with accepting we need guidance. The park became my unofficial therapist, its winding paths mirroring the circuitous route to self-discovery.
The food situation deserves special mention. While Jili Park doesn't have proper restaurants, the local vendors near the south entrance serve incredible street food. My personal favorite is the turon with langka - sweet banana spring rolls that cost only 15 pesos each. There's a particular elderly woman who sets up her stall around 2 PM daily, and her banana cue remains the best I've tasted in Metro Manila. Pro tip: bring a small blanket for impromptu picnics near the Japanese garden, where the cherry blossoms (yes, they managed to grow them here!) create the perfect ambiance for afternoon relaxation.
What continues to draw me back to Jili Park, even after completing my treatment, is how it balances accessibility with mystery. After 23 visits, I'm still finding new corners and details I previously missed. Last month, I discovered a small stone plaque commemorating the park's original designer, something I'd walked past countless times. It reminds me that healing, like exploration, isn't about dramatic revelations but consistent engagement with the world around us. The park taught me that hidden gems exist everywhere - sometimes in urban green spaces, sometimes within ourselves.
If you're planning your first visit to Jili Park, allocate at least three hours. The place has a way of slowing time, of making you notice details you'd normally rush past. Bring a camera, a journal, or just your curiosity. But most importantly, bring your willingness to get slightly lost, to follow paths that don't appear on maps, to sit quietly and listen to what the rustling leaves might tell you. My psychiatrist was right about many things, but she never mentioned that sometimes the best treatment comes not from clinical settings but from places that remind us how to breathe again. Jili Park became that place for me, and I have no doubt it holds similar discoveries for every visitor willing to explore beyond the surface.